"That's just a myth, right? Made-up stories?"
"Until yesterday, werewolves and the supernatural were myths to you," Steffen points out, his voice calm but firm. "Everything is possible, Ella. Not all of those stories are fiction."
"So… he was cursed by Zeus?"
"Yes," he admits, his voice deepening, "but not for the reasons told in your human stories. My father, Lycaon, was selfish and power-hungry. He craved control over everything and sought absolute power. He wanted to be the master, the ruler, and the supreme being. So he did what any fool blinded by ambition would do, he plotted to overthrow Zeus himself. His plan was to take Zeus's lightning bolt and claim his throne."
Ella's breath hitches. "That's insane. What happened to him?"
"He was caught and cursed," Steffen continues, his tone hardening. "Zeus punished him and us, his children with eternity as beasts."
Ella shakes her head, her mind racing. "That's… wild. Did he at least repent after that?"
Steffen's jaw tightens. "Quite the opposite. He became worse. The curse didn't humble him; it only fueled his belief that werewolves were superior. He saw it as a divine sign that we were destined to dominate humans—to rule over them completely."
Ella's eyes widen slightly, her grip on the glass tightening.
"For years, he waged a quiet war. He wanted to unite all supernatural beings under his rule and enslave humanity. And he was close, too close, to succeeding."
Steffen pauses, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. "I tried to reason with him. I begged him to see what he was doing. But he was too far gone, consumed by power and hatred. There came a point where I had no choice but to stop him, permanently."
Ella's breath catches. "You…"
"I faced him, Ella," Steffen says, his voice quiet but firm. "My father. The King of Arcadia. I defeated him to save both my kind and yours."
The firelight reflects in his eyes, but Ella can see the pain there, an agony that has never left him.
"It wasn't just a battle, Ella. It was a betrayal. I didn't just stop him, I shattered the foundation of our people's beliefs. And for that, I became king. Not because I wanted the throne, but because there was no one else who could hold it without becoming like him."
Ella sets her glass down, her heart aching for the man in front of her. She hesitates before asking, "Do they… hate you for it?"
"Some do," he admits. "But most… most understand. They know what he would have done. Still, it doesn't erase the guilt. Or the loneliness."
Her throat tightens at his words. "Steffen…"
He looks at her then, his expression unreadable. "I've lived centuries, Ella. Centuries of watching, protecting, but never truly living. Never trusting. Because how do you trust anyone when your own blood betrayed everything you stood for?"
Ella doesn't know what to say. Instead, she does the only thing she can. She reaches across the space between them and places her hand over his.
"You're not alone anymore," she says softly. "Not if you don't want to be."
For a moment, he looks at her, his usually guarded eyes softening. He doesn't speak, but his hand turns, his fingers lightly brushing against hers.
The silence stretches between them, but it's no longer uncomfortable. It's intimate, electric. Ella feels her heart thud in her chest as she realizes how close they've moved without meaning to.
"You don't have to be alone," she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly.
Steffen's gaze locks onto hers, intense and searching. "Ella…" he begins, his voice low and conflicted.
But she doesn't let him finish. Acting on instinct, she closes the space between them, her lips brushing softly against his. It's tentative at first, testing, but the moment their mouths meet, the tension that's been building between them snaps.
Steffen responds instantly, his hand coming up to cup her face as he deepens the kiss. There's a hunger in the way he holds her, but also a tenderness, as though he's afraid she'll slip away.
Ella's hands find their way to his chest, her fingers tracing the strong planes of muscle beneath his shirt. His warmth seeps into her, igniting something she hasn't felt in years, something she wasn't sure she was capable of feeling again.
When they finally break apart, both breathing heavily, Steffen rests his forehead against hers. "Ella, I…"
She silences him with a finger to his lips, a small smile tugging at her own. "No more talking," she whispers.
He doesn't argue. Instead, he scoops her up in one fluid motion, cradling her against his chest as though she weighs nothing. Ella lets out a soft laugh, looping her arms around his neck as he carries her to the bedroom.
And just as things are about to get serious, a break is called by Ella.
"Wait, stop," her voice pours out as her hands push him off her body. She groans, running her fingers through her hair as she forces herself upright on the bed.
Damn it, she mutters under her breath.
How bad can it be? He's already on her and her breath is out of control, he thinks as he lays another kiss on he.
"I can't do this right now. I'm not myself, and I don't think either of us really wants this."
Speak for yourself, girl. He bites down on the words threatening to spill out. He's still in his right mind, even after a few drinks, and he knows he needs her more than he wants to admit. But her choice is clear, and he has to respect it. She's far from her normal self after the drinks, and it's obvious she doesn't want anything to do with him in this moment. Reluctantly, he backs away, even though it tears at him to feel her rejection again.
"You sleep here. I'll sleep somewhere else tonight," he says, his voice steady but tense. She nods in agreement, and he walks out of the room.
It's better to keep some space between them because he isn't sure he can trust himself to stay away if they remain in the same space after the heated exchange.
Drowsily, he makes his way to the next room, shoving the door open with little care. He collapses heavily onto the bed, trying to calm his tense mind in the darkness. But it's no use—his thoughts spiral into the shadows, and he can only hope his inner beast will quiet after yet another rejection.
Right as his mind is about to be consume by darkness , his phone tune snatches him up . His hand reluctantly grabs it and responds to the call.
"Yes"
The clean morning sky stretches above, soft clouds drifting lazily across the expanse. Steffen's footsteps echo against the cold floor as he descends the stairs, his mind still caught on Paul's words from the night before.
Could he be right?
Maybe, Steffen admits silently, his brow furrowing as he reaches the fourth step. Ella is no ordinary girl—he's known that from the moment they met. There's a fire in her, a strength she barely conceals, but to imagine she's tied to them… It's a conclusion he struggles to accept. The Organization is ruthless, its agents even more so. Could she really be one of them?
Paul's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "I got what you asked for."
Steffen turns toward his dark, heavy desk, its surface cluttered with a computer and stacks of files. Paul strides over, placing a sealed brown envelope onto the desk. Steffen's sharp eyes follow the movement, tension building in his chest.
He ordered this investigation on Ella days ago. Something about her didn't sit right, and now, with everything that's happened, he knows he made the right call. His fingers hover over the envelope for a moment before he rips it open.
Inside are photos and documents—evidence compiled with painstaking detail. His eyes lock onto the pictures first, freezing as he takes them in. Ella, younger but unmistakable, standing with agents of the Organization. His hand moves slowly, sliding over the pages, absorbing the words with deliberate care.
"She's an agent," Paul says, breaking the silence. His voice is firm, steady. "A top-ranking one."
Steffen's head snaps up, his gaze narrowing. Paul stands across the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his denim trousers. There's no doubt in his tone, no room for negotiation.
"She's been with them since she was a child," Paul continues. "I know you want to protect her, but she's a threat, Steffen. Anyone tied to the Organization is." His stance is unyielding, his belief in Ella's danger palpable. "None of us know what she's truly capable of, and I'd rather not wait to find out."
Steffen's jaw tightens. "There must be a mistake," he says, his voice rough, each word dragging through the weight of his disbelief.
"That's a lie, and you know it." Paul takes a step closer, his tone low but insistent. "I did this research myself, Steffen. She's no weak, vulnerable girl playing pretend. She's a trained agent—their agent."
Steffen exhales slowly, his mind racing. The pieces click together, unwelcome but undeniable. Her combat skills, her precision, the way she moves—it's all too advanced for a novice. And now, this file confirms what his gut has been telling him all along.
Paul's voice turns cold, almost final. "Whatever brought her here, it's not good. She's on a mission, and I'd bet my life it's against us."
Steffen says nothing, his gaze dropping back to the documents. The weight of the truth settles over him, heavy and unrelenting. Whatever Ella's reasons, whatever her intentions, one thing is clear, she's far more dangerous than she lets on.